


i wanna be your first string, i wanna be your a-team

by soliloquies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gift Exchange, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Olympics, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Swearing, and 0.0000000001 seconds of tsukkiyama, but i'm making it one, but only in like the last paragraphs, haikyuusecretsanta2017, idk if that's a tag, like 1 second of daisuga, nishinoya yuu - Freeform, oh yeah i forgot, so validate me, sorry bout that, sorry noya-senpai, summary sucks, teen and up only for the swearing at the end, that tag is referring to the nishinoya/kageyama, this is the longest oneshot i've ever written, whoops had to sneak him in there, wow this really strayed from the prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 21:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliloquies/pseuds/soliloquies
Summary: Honestly, Hinata has way too much on his mind to be worried about Kageyama Tobio of all people, especially when he’s at his first Olympics. Definitely too much to think about.Yeah. Yeah, he can think about all sorts of other things. Things like what he’s going to eat for dinner, and his fluffy bed in the hotel room, and the goddamn Olympics…(So why is Kageyama the only thing on his mind these days?)Kageyama, on the other hand, is so used to Hinata taking up space in his head and his life that absolutely nothing will stop him from focusing his entire attention on the game.At least, until something does.Alternative Title: Two Stupid Dorks Being Stupid ft. Your Local Guardian Deity, Nishinoya Yuu





	i wanna be your first string, i wanna be your a-team

**Author's Note:**

> hollllllyyyyyyy crap i finished!
> 
> this fic is for the haikyuu secret santa 2017 and i know it's not christmas yet but i had to post this early for personal reasons so please don't throw vegetables @ me *sobs*
> 
> actually tho, one person does have the right to throw stuff at me, and that's my giftee. 
> 
> and now, a letter to my giftee:  
> i'm really sorry i only got a few of the things you wanted down. in fact this turned into a massive kagehina thing even tho you never even asked for kagehina so i really hope you don't hate kagehina becuz then i'm screwed *laughs nervously* i hope the nishinoya/kageyama interaction is to your liking because i've never done it before and it was definitely an interesting part of the story to write. u can also probably tell that hinata has a ton of povs because i tried to include him as much as i could, even though i'm 1000000000000x better at writing as kags. i've also never been to miami so please blame google for any unrealistic and fantasy-like things written. wow i'm just making excuses at this point. 
> 
> this is honestly not the work i'm most proud of, because i rushed thru some of it, but i can say that wow it was a struggle. i'm not a procrastinator at anything except writing and wow i'm rambling like kageyama  
> oops spoiler alert hahahahahahhahahahdkfhaslhflkahlkshkajsfklsfjwioru
> 
> it wasn't really what you asked for, but i hope you enjoy it to the extent you can, because it was hard and it was torture, but it was the good kind of torture so i'm happy. 
> 
> wow this was super long now go read the fic
> 
> (PS. this was never beta read by ANYONE so please feel free to point out grammatical mistakes because i promise you they irk me as much as they irk you.)
> 
> title from "end game" by taylor swift

Kageyama’s never been in America before.

Of course, he studied English in school (and just barely passed), and has heard all sorts of things about America. He can name quite a bit of them.

Hamburgers. The Statue of Liberty. McDonald’s. Coca Cola.

The Olympics this year.

People rush by him, filtering around him on both sides. There’s a different kind of feeling about this place. They have beaches in Japan, and palm trees, for sure. But in America, there’s an underlying sense that something _big_ is happening here, and it’s happening _now_.

There’s a screech just behind him, and he winces.

“Why. Are. You. Yelling. This. Early. In. The. Morning,” Kageyama growls, but it doesn’t stop the flutter in his chest when the offender beams at him.

Hinata points to a looming building just a little ways off. “I can see the stadium!” he cries, and the surrounding passerby grimace as well.

Kageyama feels for them. It’s just about 6 AM, he just got off a plane, he’s in Miami, Florida, and it’s already stifling hot. The only people outside right now are businessmen, walking to their meetings at the butt crack of dawn.

Hinata runs ahead, laughing, shouting and earning glares from pretty much everyone.

But his excitement is infectious, and Kageyama allows a slight smile to grace his lips because he’s here. He’s actually here, and he made it with the person he was competing with the whole time.

In just a few days, Kageyama Tobio is going to compete in the Olympics.

* * *

 Hinata got a call through his third year of collegiate volleyball, on a day that was pretty much the same as any other.

He came home from practice, took a shower, and was eating some instant ramen and staring out the window. The house was quiet.

That’s when the phone rang.

Later, he would remember the calm voice of the lady on the phone, and the final thud of his heart just before she said the words.

“Hinata-san, we would be honored to have you on the National Japanese Men’s Volleyball Team.”

“T-the- the one that goes to the Olympics?”

A breath of laughter. “Yes, the very same.”

He felt like screaming. He felt like crying. He wanted to burst out of the ceiling and soar through the clouds, and never come down.

At least, until practice started.

After that, he can probably guess how many times he said “thank you” (seven times), or how much his face hurt from grinning so wide (it was pretty bad).

He gave her the information she needed, and hung up. His heart was still doing that horse-race beat, thumping as fast as their hooves could gallop.

Then- “Kageyama,” he breathed, and reached for the receiver so fast that he almost dropped it.

A click. “Hello?”

Hinata held his breath. “Did you…?”

There was a hitch on Kageyama’s side, maybe a little gasp,and he could imagine the shine of those blue eyes, deep as the sea.

Kageyama whispered, “Yeah.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Hinata screamed, straight into Kageyama’s ear, but they were both laughing so hard they were crying, so Kageyama couldn’t be bothered to tell him off.

“We’re going to the Olympics!” Hinata crowed.

* * *

They head to the hotel, the team grumbling and groaning about how early in the morning it is. Kageyama and Hinata aren’t nearly as tired; they’re used to sleeping on trips from when they used to travel hours to training camps. And planes are definitely less rickety than buses.

Hinata breathes in the salty air. He’s only been to the beach once or twice in his life, even in Miyagi, and the expanse of water, just a mile away, always rolling and crashing against the sand, is ominous.

Hinata’s captivated, of course, having only been to the beach once, with the Karasuno team (a memory at which Kageyama visibly shudders at when it is mentioned. “Never again will I go to the beach with Tanaka-san,” he says, ignoring Hinata’s muffled laughter.).

“Everybody should probably head to their rooms to get some rest. Tomorrow is a free day, which you can spend doing whatever you’d like, as long as it’s not illegal,” the coach says in the hotel lobby. That earns a couple laughs from the team; they’re the most reserved team Japan has, and that’s with Hinata.

The team gets their room keys and the wifi password and disperses. Hinata and Kageyama take the stairs instead of the crowded elevator, and the walk up them is quiet, but not the awkward kind. Hinata knows he’s loud often, louder than most. So he appreciates it that Kageyama doesn’t feel the need to stir up meaningless conversation when he’s not.

They finally reach the sixth floor, and it’s quiet. They’re the only ones staying here. Hinata pauses at his room, across from Kageyama’s and blinks, unsure of himself.

It’s been a while since they were really alone like this. He’s been trying to avoid it since about a month an a half ago, when they were picking up stray volleyballs after practice, and had decided to have an impromptu game of _toss to me!_

Hinata had felt it sent it to Kageyama in jest, like he was saying, “See? Remember when we used to do this? Remember when we were so in sync?”

Except, Hinata jumped and the ball was right where we wanted it, right where he needed it, and he just spiked.

He wasn’t even trying that hard, it was only just for fun, but the ball flew to the floor with a bam! and he could feel the power still buzzing in his fingers.

He’d looked to Kageyama then (which was a fatal move, looking back on it), and had seen wonder and admiration in his eyes. He saw the rise and fall of Kageyama’s chest with every breath he took, and the way he slightly shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, and somehow, Hinata knew that Kageyama made him feel like he was at the top of the world, he always had, and coming down, he hadn’t just landed.

He’d fallen, hard.

(It turns out they were still in sync, after all this time.)

* * *

In the beginning, the national team was very different from what Kageyama had expected. Not in a bad way, but… _different_.

After Karasuno, Hinata and Kageyama had gone to different universities. Chuo for Hinata, and Tokai for Kageyama.

They’d met up often in between, to play with each other and the rest of the Karasuno team. But in the past 3 years, Kageyama had changed (unwillingly) from being with Hinata every waking moment, to not seeing him for weeks at a time. So he was understandably shocked when, on the first day of being on the National team, he was walking towards the gym and saw Hinata coming from the opposite direction.

Kageyama stopped instantly. Hinata hadn’t noticed him yet.

He hadn’t seen him for four months.

Hinata’s hair was longer, and he was maybe a centimeter taller too. Strangely enough, he seemed to be examining a poster on the side of the building, standing quietly and calmly, so un-Hinata-like that Kageyama’s heart jerked.

Had Hinata changed? Was he a new person now, after all the time had passed? Had he forgotten about the quicks they used to do? Had he forgotten about Kageyama at all? A lot of things could happen in four months.

But then Hinata glanced forward.

All thoughts were abandoned as Hinata came rushing up to greet him.

Kageyama’s heart unfroze. The ice retracted from the tips of his toes until Hinata’s sunny smile had melted every last icicle hanging from his fingers.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Hinata asked. The grin on his face was so bright, Kageyama felt blinded. “Come on!” Hinata said, exasperated, and tugged him through the gym doors.

Hinata’s hand was as warm as he had remembered.

* * *

It happened when they were at practice about a month ago. Some things were expected, like of course, practice in the national team would be harder.

Kageyama still can’t get over it, the fact that he’s now playing volleyball for a living. It makes him want to do a million jump serves, until his hands are so red he can’t feel them anymore.

But there somehow a chill to the air. Kageyama sometimes wonders if his team members really want to play volleyball - or are just really good at it.

The atmosphere is cool, detached. Go to practice, hit some balls, go home, drink some beer, spend time with my girlfriend is what Kageyama sees in their eyes.

He remembers the way that Suga’s eyes would sparkle as they cut out a biting remark, one that would leave everyone speechless for a few seconds, then even Daichi on the floor howling with laughter. He thinks about _rrrrroooooollingggg thunderrrrrrrr_ and how Tanaka would rip off his shirt when he made a really good spike (and how that almost got him in trouble during a game). When he closes his eyes, he can see the moment when Yamaguchi had gotten them four points, and when he went back to the box, Tsukishima’s hand curled around his, and it looked like a puzzle finally completed.

“Hey, can you put the balls back?” asked Onodera, and Kageyama blinked back to reality. He nodded yes and then the room was silent.

Yeah, things had changed.

Hinata changed too. Kageyama’s eyes followed him on the court (he tells himself it’s because of that dumb hair - it catches everyone’s attention) as he runs, jumps, and spikes.

 _No_. No, not spiking. It’s flying.

Kageyama can tell that Hinata is good now. He can spike with any setter, and the ball will throw itself to the floor on the other side of the net.

In the quiet, Kageyama found himself wondering if Hinata was still amazed at the crazy stuff they did together back in high school, even if they both could do crazy stuff on their own.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hinata walked through the door, toweling off his hair from the locker showers.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Do you need help putting those away?”

The volleyballs were scattered haphazardly all over the gym, and the gym was huge. He had been so lost in thought, he didn’t realize how much work it would take to pick all of them up.

Hinata picked up a ball even before Kageyama answered. “Here, I’ll send them to you and you put it in the cart.” He threw the ball up and caught on his right arm; it went careening off to the side, farther than it was before. 

“Whoops,” Hinata said.

“Dumbass, let me just get them. You stand by the cart!” he growled, but there was no malice in it, and Hinata laughed.

“Fine, fine,” he responded, and they traded places.

One by one, Kageyama picked up the balls and sent it over to Hinata, who caught it and put in the net. They’d been at it for almost fifteen minutes, and there were only three balls left, when Hinata received it and sent it back instead of putting it in the cart.

Kageyama fumbled to receive, he hadn’t expected that one.

He caught Hinata’s eye in confusion. What’s he trying to do?

Hinata jerked his head towards the net.

_Oh._

Hinata bumped it back to Kageyama in a high arc, perfect for setting. He’s all the way over by the cart, but somehow Kageyama wasn’t worried, and he set it just a little bit away from the net.

It was only just in the air when there’s a blur and Hinata was _up, up, up_ , and he slammed the ball down on the court. The ball looked like it has a dent in it when it hit the ground.

Kageyama stared at Hinata in shock. “When did you get that kind of power?” he asked, because even during practice, Hinata’s never been this good.

But Hinata was just staring at him like he’d grown another head and hated milk all of a sudden.

Kageyama frowned. “Hello? Have you finally lost too many brain cells?”

When Hinata didn’t answer, he got concerned. “Did you get hit by a ball today and not tell me? Hinata?”

“What?” Hinata asked. “No! I-I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just put the rest of the balls away.”

They spent the rest of the time silent.

Kageyama stared at Hinata, trying to find something different, the reason he’s angry. When they passed each other to get their bags, Kageyama grabbed his arm.

“Hey,” he said sharply, and Hinata blinked up at him like he’d seen a ghost. His cheeks were red, and Kageyama found himself worried that Hinata was already flushed even though they were barely been doing anything tiring.

“Are you sick?” he asked, peering into the spiker’s eyes.

Hinata avoided his gaze, the blush on his cheeks rising higher to his ears.

“B-Bakageyama,” he murmured, wrenching his hand away. Kageyama was shocked; Hinata hadn’t called him that for a while now.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, walking away, and looking at his receding back, Kageyama couldn’t help the sinking in his chest that he’d done something very, very wrong.

* * *

They’re standing in silence in front of their hotel rooms, now, and Kageyama has absolutely no idea what to do.

Hinata looks lost deep in thought, which is a rare sight (considering), and Kageyama doesn’t really want to speak and break the spell.

He knows that even the slightest thing like clearing his throat (which is really starting to itch) will make Hinata start, and turn.

Kageyama can’t bear the thought of those inquisitive eyes on his. So instead, he stands, and he waits, and he watches.

Hinata’s hair is slightly ruffled, thick and wavy like it always has been, and Kageyama has never wanted to run his hands through it as much as he does now.

He thinks back to when he really starting liking Hinata, started viewing him as more than an equal, more than a teammate, more than a friend.

He’s not really sure when it was. Was it when they’d done their quick in their first reunion game after starting college, after playing with other setters and other spikers for a month, and their eyes were pulled to each other like magnets, their grins light and easy and leaving Kageyama’s head spinning? Was it when he’d felt the thin layer of sweat on Hinata’s palm as he dragged them into the national team’s gym and introduced them to the team, somehow knowing that Kageyama wouldn’t have the courage to do it himself? Was it all the way back when they were still in Karasuno? Was it back when he’d watch the moonlight make Hinata’s pale cheeks glow, when he couldn’t sleep so he contented himself with watching Hinata’s eyelashes flutter? Kageyama considers that he’s never really given a thought to _l_ _iking boys_ , because it’s always just been _liking Hinata_.

Scenes slip through his mind like he’s looking through photos on a camera, and he remembers the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun when he looked down from the club room and saw Suga kiss Daichi on the cheek.

He can still see the red on his captain’s cheeks as Daichi laughed. Through the sound of air whooshing in his ears (yet there was no wind at all), and the stifling warmth in his chest (the kind that only happens when he holds his breath for too long), he remembers thinking that he’d never seen Daichi blush before.

He’s not sure how long the memory has sat there in the back of his mind, waiting to be of some use.

He glances down, remembering where he is, and sees that Hinata is looking at him now, and can’t drag his gaze away from Hinata’s questioning eyes.

Without thinking, he leans down and softly presses his lips to Hinata’s cheek.

Underneath, he feels Hinata go positively still. The body that is usually quivering with unused energy shuts down.

Only when Kageyama leans back does he really understand the implications of what he’s just done.

Hinata’s got this deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, and if he’s looking like that, Kageyama can’t imagine what kind of expression is on his face.

_What did he just do?!_

“Um, goodnight, Kageyama,” Hinata says, too soft for someone who is always so loud.

Kageyama is paralyzed. He does not answer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Hinata says, pretending like what just happened didn’t just happen. He backs away slowly, and before he turns around, Kageyama just barely catches the ghost of a smile on his face.

* * *

 The next morning, Hinata catches Kageyama in the hotel lobby and barely conceals a squeak.

“Uh—,” they say at the same time, reaching for a slice of toast.

Hinata’s voice jumps several octaves. “Hi, Kageyama!”

“H-Hey,” he answers.

They’re both thinking about the night before. They stand awkwardly, and Hinata wishes that a monster could suddenly rip out of the ground and swallow him up until the game tomorrow. And in the meantime, he might as well suddenly gain immense talent at receiving…

Hinata’s still wondering about how the monster would look like (yellow and blue, like a volleyball), when someone calls, “Hey!” from across the room, and both of them turn.

Hinata’s eyes widen. “N… Noya-senpai?!”

The man comes closer, grinning. His hair is exactly the same as it has always been, his grin a white flash on his face, and through all the flipping over his life is doing right now, Hinata is relieved. Some things never change.

“Yo, Shouyou. How’s it going?” Nishinoya asks.

“F-Fine,” Hinata stammers, wondering if he’s still dreaming and how he can make himself wake up. “What are you doing here, Noya-senpai?”

“Ah, just came to watch the Olympics. Heard Japan’s gonna win this year.” Nishinoya’s eyes gleam.

Hinata feels something swell up inside of him, and instinctively, he glances at Kageyama. Kageyama’s looking at him too, and they’re both smirking before they realize it.

“Yeah,” Hinata agrees. “Yeah, I heard that too.”

“Anyway, I gotta go, so see ya on the big screen, Shouyou!” Nishinoya says.

Hinata frowns. “Wait, where are you going?”

For some reason, Kageyama flushes bright red.

“Came to see Kageyama,” Nishinoya explains, and Hinata has never felt more confused in his life. They walk off, Hinata staring at the characters on the back of Kageyama’s team jacket, and the cartoons on Nishinoya’s.

“Okay…,” he answers, wondering what that could possibly be about.

* * *

 “You didn’t have to come,” Kageyama confesses.

Nishinoya laughs. “Of course I didn’t! When my precious kouhai calls, I gotta answer!”

Kageyama gives him a look, a look that says 'I’m not your precious kouhai' and 'You really didn’t have to come' at the same time.

Nishinoya sputters out another laugh. “Relax, Kageyama! I wasn’t busy, or whatever you’re thinking. I really did want to come. Like I said, came to see Japan win!”

Kageyama resists the urge to glance down at him. Instead, he keeps walking forward. He misses Karasuno and their team and Nishinoya’s wild antics like there’s an empty basket of volleyballs in his chest. Something’s got to go there, but there’s nothing to put in.

“So…,” Nishinoya starts. “What do you wanna do?”

Kageyama never really planned on calling Nishinoya all the way out here to sunny Miami. It sort of just happened.

He was going through their group chat when he discovered that a few of them were coming to Miami to come watch the volleyball team. Kiyoko already lived in America (yes, she was in the group chat too, per Tanaka’s request), and Nishinoya had sent a message with numerous exclamation makrs and emojis, saying he couldn’t wait for the Olympics, and he was _gonna be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ along with _rolling thunder!!!!11!!!!1!!!!!!!1!!11!!!!_

Kageyama had created a new chat, titled “Olympics 2024,” and privately messaged Nishinoya.

 

You: nishinoya-san, your coming to the olympics?  
Guardian_Deity: yup!!!!  
You: wanna  
Guardian_Deity: wanna what?

 

Kageyama had bit his lip, considering. He wanted to see some of his old friends again; his first friends. And if Nishinoya was the only one available, so be it. They could meet up somewhere, hang out. But he didn’t know how to even ask.

_Hey, I know that I don’t really know you that well, even though we were on the same volleyball team for two years, but wanna meet up in a foreign city anyway right before maybe the biggest game of my life?_

Yeah, he couldn’t exactly say that.

Nishinoya responded before he could.

 

Guardian_Deity: how bout we meet up?

 

Kageyama had breathed a sigh of relief. _Sure_ , he typed out, and then they were trading arrival times and hotels. Afterwards, neither him nor Nishinoya mentioned it on the group chat, and Kageyama was secretly thankful. He could feel Hinata’s surprise when Nishinoya came in, and he doesn’t even want to think about trying to explain it to him (yet somehow he doesn’t think it’ll be that hard).

“I… don’t know,” Kageyama admits, back in the present. They’ve never really spent that much time together. He isn’t sure what Nishinoya even likes, other than gory movies and Kiyoko.

“Okay,” Nishinoya says easily. “I expected that.”

He stays quiet for a while, and Kageyama has the chance to enjoy Miami for all that it is. They’re walking by the beach, and the morning sun is glinting off of the white sand. They’re on Miami Beach, he recalls, and the ocean is a light blue where it meets the sand. There’s people milling about everywhere, smiling and laughing. It’s only 10 AM, but groups of beachgoers are already laying their towels on the sand. Kageyama even spies some kids making lopsided sand castles.

“We were the best on the team, you know,” Nishinoya says casually, keeping his eyes trained ahead. “Asahi-san was the ace, yeah. And Shouyou was the amazing decoy. But you’ve always been the genius setter, and I guess I’m just really good at diving when no one else really will. So we’re alike, you and I. Just because we don’t know each other that well, yet, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. And I sense that you have your own reasons for wanting to hang out with me, so I’m not gonna pry.”

Kageyama blinks down at the smiling Nishinoya, surprised. Nishinoya has always been immature, as far as he knows, so it’s unexpected to see him acting so wise.

“What?” Nishinoya asks, reading his mind. “Underestimating your senpai? Wrong move, _Kageyama-kun_!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but feels his heart blooming, settling back where it should be, beating happily. Instead, he says, “Thanks, Nishinoya-san. You can really make people feel better,” with sarcasm he doesn’t mean.

Nishinoya blinks, but the surprise and pride is a flash on his face. The next thing he knows, Kageyama is stumbling because Nishinoya is clawing his way up his back like some sort of monkey and definitely not the twenty-five-year-old he is.

“Gwah!” Kageyama yelps, unbalanced with the extra weight. They both fall to the ground, and Nishinoya’s laughing.

“What was that for?” Kageyama demands, but Nishinoya quiets, and doesn’t answer.

“Look,” he says, facing Kageyama head-on. “There’s clearly something going on with you and Shouyou, and I don’t know what it is, but you better get that fixed, like, soon.”

Kageyama’s heart trembles. Like he’s not already dreading that.

“But right noooooow,” he stretches out, staring out along the beach. His eyes brighten as he spots something. He grins.

“Right now we’re going to play volleyball,” he says. He grabs Kageyama’s arm and yanks him into a sprint.

“N-Nishinoya-san!” he screams, but they’re flying across the white sand, and Nishinoya just hoots with laughter.

They stop suddenly, after running for five minutes straight, and Kageyama finds that it is damn hard to run on sand. “What— What was that?” he yells, or at least as much as he can through his panting. The sun is hot on his back, so he takes off his team jacket and ties it around his waist.

Nishinoya ignores him. “Hey!” he calls out to a couple next to a net. “Can we join you?”

Kageyama gapes as Nishinoya walks up to the American couple and introduces himself. “Hi,” he says in perfect English. His accent is even barely noticeable. “I’m Yuu. This is my good friend Tobio,” he says. “We really love volleyball; we were wondering if we could join in?”

The girl and boy look about sixteen, and Kageyama’s heart aches for when he was that age.

“Sure,” the couple agree, easier than Kageyama thinks they will. They’re both tan, the girl with hair the color of Nishinoya’s bangs, and the boy with black curls. “I’m Brandon,” the boy says, “and this is Cassie.”

Nishinoya smiles, polite. “Nice to meet you.” Kageyama is in disbelief, so he keeps quiet.

They set up for a two-on-two, and Kageyama finally has the nerve to hiss, “What are you doing?!”

Nishinoya shrugs. “Playing volleyball. This is what we do best, isn’t it?”

But Kageyama doesn’t have time to come up with a retort because the ball is flying over to their side of the net, and it’s showtime.

He’s only played beach volleyball once, when the Karasuno team went to the beach. So the feeling of the ground sliding beneath his feet is foreign, and he almost falls face-first into the sand a couple times.

And Brandon and Cassie are _good_ , not as good as he was at sixteen, but much better than he expects. They don’t slip on the moving grains; they’re used to playing on the beach.

Kageyama and Nishinoya are ahead by seven points (even though they’re not officially keeping track), when the ball hurtles to the ground and Nishinoya grunts and dives to connect. Brandon whistles on the other side, but they both ignore it, playing hard out of habit, even though the game is just for fun.

The ball is high in the air, and they are all-powerful. They can do whatever they want.

“Kageyama!” Nishinoya yells, on the far right of the court, and when the ball comes towards him, Kageyama doesn’t even hesitate to feel the slight pressure on his fingers and then push it up to right where Nishinoya is.

He blinks, honestly not sure where this kind of trust came from, because as far as he knows, Nishinoya can barely spike.

But Nishinoya defies his expectations and jumps, hitting the ball lightly over Cassie’s stretched out fingers, so that they fall over the block just before Brandon reaches there to save it.

The ball falls lightly to the sand.

“Nice,” Nishinoya pants, but Kageyama’s not even listening. He’s not even here, in Miami.

He’s back at practice last month, when the ball soared from his fingers and Hinata was right there (he was always right there) to send it back down. He’s back in the hotel room, with Hinata smiling as usual, and Kageyama pressing his lips to Hinata’s cheeks (the softest touch, like a butterfly, or something that was never even there). He’s back in training camp, watching Hinata sleep quietly, his hair brushing his ear with every breath.

“Hey,” Nishinoya breaks his train of thought with a gentle voice. Brandon and Cassie on the other side of the net are talking to each other. One barks out a loud laugh.

“Is this about Hinata?”

Kageyama groans, sinks to the hot, rough sand. Because _of course_ it’s about Hinata, _everything’s_ about Hinata, Hinata has taken root in his life like a tough weed that never goes away. He is poking through the sidewalk and no matter how many times Kageyama steps on him, he does not die. It’s always been about Hinata, and this, Nishinoya knows.

“Thanks for the game, bye!” Nishinoya yells to Brandon and Cassie, and they wave back.

Kageyama is still on the ground, regretting his life.

“C’mon,” Nishinoya drags him up. “We’re going back. You need to get your life together.”

Kageyama is numbly led off the beach, and he almost stumbles into a jogger on the sidewalk.

Nishinoya almost laughs. “What is with you? Where’s our genius setter?”

When Kageyama doesn’t answer, he sighs.

In a much kinder tone, he says, “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Liking Hinata is not the end of the world.”

Kageyama doesn’t even bother to be surprised that Nishinoya knows what the problem is.

“I know.”

“He’s not even a bad person to like. I can tell why you like him.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“ _The problem?_ ” Kageyama says, annoyed at himself and the world and just everything. He can’t believe he kissed Hinata. He can't believe he risked something like that. He doesn't even know where it came from! “The _problem_ is that I’ve been in love with the guy who’s my best friend for who knows how long, and the day before the biggest match of our lives, I decide to do something about it!”

Nishinoya is taken aback by the outburst.

“He probably hates me now. I’m distracting him from the match.”

“He likes you too, you know!” Nishinoya adds in, conversationally. Kageyama stops walking.

“What.”

Nishinoya gives him a look. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he says not unkindly. Kageyama considers the information, but doesn’t want to believe it. It’s a possibility, but preparing himself for the worst will get him the least hurt if things go downhill.

Kageyama realizes that they’re almost back to the hotel, and panics.

“W-Wait, I don’t know what to do!” he whispers. He can’t believe this is happening, but. He’s asking Nishinoya for advice.

Nishinoya waves him off and chuckles. “You’ll be fine, Kageyama. Fine. You aren’t called a genius for no reason, right?”

Kageyama looks like he’s about to have an anxiety attack.

“Oh my God, Kageyama. Smile! You’re at the Olympics. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could hate me forever,” Kageyama mumbles.

“Yeah, right,” Nishinoya laughs. “Hinata would never hate you forever. You know that.”

Yes. He does know that. But lately his brain has been pushing that fact to the very back of his mind, where it’s hard to find.

They’re in front of the hotel now. “I’ll be watching the match, of course. You better be grateful. It took me a while to save up for this. And the plane tickets. So as thanks, you better go get that gold medal and bring it home to Japan so I can brag about how I helped my kouhai Kageyama Tobio win at the Olympics,” Nishinoya warns.

Kageyama can’t help it; he laughs.

Yeah, Kageyama misses Karasuno and all that it stands for. But with the lingering touches and the held gazes, doesn’t the national team stand for something different altogether?  
Something with bright orange hair and a brighter laugh, something just as good?

Nishinoya’s face lights up like he was waiting for this the entire time.

“Go get ‘em, Tobio!” he says, and Kageyama has never been more thankful for someone like Nishinoya.

* * *

Hinata spends the day staring at his ceiling.

He realizes he should probably go out, sightsee, maybe find a restaurant to eat lunch at, then come back to his room. But he doesn’t want to go to the beach. It’s a scary thought, but he doesn’t even want to play volleyball right now.

He wants to see Kageyama.

No.

He wants to kiss Kageyama. For real, not just on the cheek. He wonders if Kageyama’s lips will be just as soft touching his own.

Just the thought has his cheeks feeling like they’re gonna burst because they’re overheating too much.

He doesn’t get why he feels this way. Aren’t boys supposed to have… girlfriends? (Of course they don’t have to, his brain answers, almost in exasperation. That’s not how life works. You like who you like.) And even if he did like boys (which he clearly does, a part of his brain says, and this time, Hinata cannot come up with a retort), why does it have to be Kageyama of all people? There are plenty of other boys that are better. Yamaguchi, for one, is much nicer. Daichi is more mature, more on top of things. Less violent. Nishinoya is really cool.

Kageyama’s just a jerk. Well, a jerk who likes him, apparently, if the cheek-kissing is anything to go by.

He doesn’t get it!

Hinata screams into his pillow. He half expects someone to peep their head through his door and ask him if he’s okay, until he remembers that he’s the only team member on his floor.

He supposes that someone else, some random stranger, could pop in, but that would just make it more awkward.

 _Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine_ , he’d say. _Just having a mental breakdown over the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m like in love with my best friend of six years, and I really, really want to kiss him, but we have a life-changing match tomorrow on international television, so that’s out of the question, and I have absolutely no idea what to do, so please help meeeee!_

_Oh, and did I mention he’s a guy?_

Hinata opens his eyes with a start. What will the team think?

Will they be uncomfortable? Will they avoid his eyes in the locker room the next time they change together? _What if they already know?!_

He collapses into his bed again, and feels a headache coming on. So much for a day of relaxation. He doesn’t know what to do.

Temples throbbing, Hinata drifts off into a empty sleep.

* * *

 Hinata wakes up two hours later, and his stomach is a gaping pit. He never even ate breakfast, and now it’s almost 3:00 PM.

He doesn’t even bother to look in the mirror and fix his hair, or check if there’s drool dried to his cheek. He’s so hungry, he doesn’t even care.

He almost forgets that he’s not in Japan anymore, so probably there isn’t a quick ramen shop he can go to, and the corner store probably doesn’t sell meat buns. Stomach grumbling, he heads out of the hotel into the breezy air, and starts looking up nearby restaurants and cafes.

Suddenly someone barks out a laugh, startling him.

Hinata looks up and _oh._

Across the sidewalk is Kageyama, talking to Nishinoya, and… smiling? He’s smiling like Nishinoya just made the funniest joke in years, and it’s not the murderous smile he usually sports.

Hinata’s heart is instantly filled to the brim, the way it was in high school, when he was subbed out in a game, and all he wanted to do was play, play, play!

Kageyama says something, grinning, and turns away, back towards the hotel’s entrance. The sun is glinting off of Kageyama’s hair. He finally notices Hinata standing there, and stops, frozen.

Hinata’s pretty sure he can hear their hearts pounding in sync.

Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom.

“Um—,” they say at the same time, and Hinata chuckles nervously.

“So, hope you had a nice break,” he says. Kageyama’s expression doesn’t change.

“Yes,” he responds carefully, like it may be the wrong answer.

Hinata nods absently. All he can see is that brilliant smile stretched across Kageyama’s face (he wishes he was the one to make him smile like that).

“Good. That’s good. That’s great. I’m really glad. I’ll— I’ll just be, uh, going up now,” rambles Hinata.

He turns and doesn’t look back, doesn’t even trust himself to glance up at Kageyama’s reflection in the glass of the hotel door and not plant one right there on his round cheek.

Upstairs, in the safety of his own room, he shrieks into the covers, and unsuccessfully tries to rip his hair out.

Hinata completely forgets about his gnawing hunger, almost like it didn’t exist in the first place.

As soon as he closes his eyes, he can feel the soft press of Kageyama’s lips on his face.

He groans into the pillows again.

He’s so screwed.

* * *

Hinata sleeps for a little while again, until he gets up and groggily goes out to eat, eating greasy fries that he’s not supposed to at a McDonald’s he shouldn’t be in. Coming back, he finds most of the team hanging around the lobby, as it’s almost dinnertime and people are going out in groups to different restaurants. Hinata feels his stomach grumbling again, and is about to ask Onodera if he can join when someone taps his shoulder. He turns around and is face-to-face with the one person he was avoiding.

Hinata gulps, but his mouth is dry.

“We need to talk,” Kageyama says, a little too loudly. The room quiets audibly.

Hinata gulps. “Right,” he answers. The rest of the team is staring at them, some blatantly, and some subtly.

Kageyama walks past him, then asks, “Your room, or mine?” and now the team is really staring at them.

“Uh, yours is fine,” Hinata squeaks, because he knows that _at least_ Onodera has a dirty mind, and is not going to believe anything Hinata says, and therefore won’t step foot in his  
room for the rest of the trip.

This time they take the elevator, and the ride up is awkwardly quiet, because both have a feeling about what the other is going to say, and both really don’t want to acknowledge it.

They enter Kageyama’s room. It's bare, with a suitcase nicely closed and set in the corner, and it’s… neat, in a way that his room in high school never really was. Hinata almost jolts at the realization that he hasn’t been in Kageyama’s home, or in any room he’s stayed in, since high school. College separated them, and somehow, texts were sent maybe every two weeks, and reunions happened even more rarely. Even after they joined the same team, just a year and a half ago, things were… different. In a way, Hinata is slightly glad. He doesn’t know how much more Kageyama-contact he could’ve taken without combusting, especially if they were dancing around the truth like they are now, graceful as a cleanly executed play.

Hinata is shaken out of his reverie when he hears the click of the door as Kageyama closes it.

Suddenly the tension in the room is so thick, Hinata could probably cut it with a butter knife. This is something they have to face now.

Yet… he doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as he imagined he would be in this moment. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s used to having to stand as strong as he could under pressure, especially being the one overlooked and dismissed in a group of giants.

“So,” he says, using up as much bravery as he can, before it vanishes. “What did you want to talk about?”

Kageyama glances at him, calculating. His blue eyes, so striking, are dark and narrow, and Hinata knows he is being assessed in the same way he was when the two first met. This time, he knows to stand his ground.

“I… I…,” Kageyama starts, sitting down on his bed. The room is big; they’re the Olympic volleyball team of Japan, after all. But the bed is an island standing alone in the room, and  
Kageyama has isolated himself upon it.

Hinata watches; he waits. He is there for Kageyama, but he cannot rescue him.

Kageyama looks up, suddenly, anxiety etched across his face, and Hinata feels sympathy, understanding that they both know the words he’s going to say, and that makes it infinitely harder for them to come out.

Hinata silently crosses the room to sit next to him on the bed, just inches apart. “Yeah,” he answers softly. “I know.”

“Why is this so hard?” Kageyama grumbles, and Hinata can’t believe they’re confessing without confessing, so he exhales a breathy laugh.

“I don’t know, you’re the one doing it.”

“I could use a little help!”

“Hmm, probably. But it isn’t coming from me.”

“Dumbass.”

“Bakageyama.”

They look at each other and laugh. The words flow easier under the pretense of something familiar.

Kageyama persists, “You go first. Tell me why.”

“Wait, no!” Hinata says, laughing, easing into the pillows, curled around Kageyama like a cat. “You haven’t even said it yet!”

“I practically did!”

“Yeah, right. You just sat there, gaping like a fish!”

A hurt look crosses Kageyama’s face, but when Hinata laughs, it disappears, and he laughs too, shoving a pillow into Hinata’s face. “No, I didn’t, take that back!”

“Will not!”

“You _better!_ ” Kageyama growls, throwing another pillow right into Hinata’s stomach and forcing a wheeze out of him.

“Fine, fine! I’ll go first!” Hinata gasps, and Kageyama settles back down, satisfied.

Hinata clears his throat, his cheeks gaining a rosy hue. “I guess it hasn’t been that long. Since that day at practice when I made that super-powerful spike—”

Kageyama remembers that day, and is intrigued.

“—and you were right, back then. I’d never spiked like that before. I mean, we hadn’t practiced alone in a while, and I was so excited, I didn’t even realize I had hit the ball so hard until after it bounced away. And it wasn’t like I always secretly had that ability,” Hinata explains bashfully.

“It was because of you.”

He buries his face back into the pillow, and the words fall out in a rush, like a dam being broken. “And I just— I don’t know! You’ve always kinda just been there, and then you were not, and I didn’t even realize what you gave me, what you made me do, until after I couldn’t do it anymore. You make me _fly_ , Kageyama. The wind beneath my wings, or whatever that American phrase is. And I just,” his voice quiets. “I really like you, Kageyama. I really, _really_ like you and it’s the day before the biggest match of our lives, and here I am, being tricked into confessing first, you _piece of trash._ ” He doesn't even care anymore about what the team will think. All he cares about is what Kageyama will think. 

The room is silent. Hinata dares a peek up at Kageyama and finds his face resembling a ripe tomato.

“I really like you too, dumbass. You... get it,” Kageyama mumbles. “Ugh— this is hard!” he groans.

“It gets easier,” Hinata says, an encouragement and a promise.

“I just— you… you get me, and you know how I’m like, and no one ever’s really gotten that. And we’re on the national team, but it’s different than I thought, and I probably wouldn’t be here without you anyway,” Kageyama rambles, but Hinata doesn’t stop him.

“And I have no idea what I’m saying,” Kageyama sighs. “But you probably do. And that’s kind of the point.”

Hinata does.

In fact, his brain is so in sync with Kageyama’s that it’s lost all contact with his mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Hinata says, and Kageyama doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I’ve wanted to for probably longer than I realize,” Hinata says, and it’s funny, because Kageyama leans in first.

When their lips touch, Kageyama feels like he’s the luckiest guy in the world, watching the number 10 rustle on Hinata’s back as he jumps, seeing the underside of his wings, where  
the feathers are most beautiful.

When Kageyama presses back slightly harder, Hinata soars higher than he ever has, gliding far past the net, into the sky, into the _stars_. He doesn’t look anywhere but ahead. He doesn’t have to. He knows that Kageyama will be right by his side, no matter what.

They break apart, look at each other again, smile. It’s different this time, it’s warmer.

“Biggest game of our lives tomorrow, huh?” Kageyama asks, so quiet it’s barely audible.

“We finally got here,” Hinata responds, and the remark has more than one meeting.

“We’re going to win,” Kageyama says, smiling. “We have to; Nishinoya-san’s reputation is at stake.”

The look Hinata gives him is so completely baffled that he bursts into laughter, and he forgets about all his regrets, all the things he mourns, all the paths that never were and never will be.

He has all he needs right in front of him.

* * *

Cassie is in her godawful Algebra II class in summer school when she swears so loudly, she’s sent to detention.

In her defense, it’s a really boring class, and she cannot believe the article she reads on her phone.

“Who can tell me the definition of a complex number? You should have notes on this from Tuesday,” her teacher drones, but it’s so hot outside that the students’ brains are melting, and nobody has enough brain cells left to learn about the square root of negative numbers.

“ _Holy fucking shit_ ,” she practically yells as she’s scrolling through her newsfeed, and her teacher gapes.

“Cassidy Myers!” the teacher admonishes, but Cassie’s not even listening because she literally cannot believe the article on her phone.

“Dude,” she says, ignoring her teacher. She leans over two desks to her boyfriend. “Dude, you’re not gonna believe this.”

“What the actual hell,” Brandon says, eyes wide.

The picture at the top of the article is one of the men they played against a week ago, in an impromptu game in the middle of their usual weekend volleyball practice.

She scrolls up to the title.

Brandon and Cassie look at each other, awed. “Whoa,” they say.

TRENDING: _Dynamic Duo Kageyama and Hinata make winning play as Japan wins gold in an unpredictable game!_


End file.
